And each year, I am confronted with a decision to be made. Do I let the week go by unacknowledged or do I address it?

In spite of the trepidation I feel, I am choosing to write about it, as I am fully aware of the injustice I would be doing to all who are suffering if I didn’t.

After all, the purpose of this week is to create awareness.

To provide hope…and understanding…and information.

To start conversations. Conversations that may be uncomfortable and scary.

I am fortunate to be in a position to provide hope, because I am proof that there is. I am in a position to provide understanding, because I do.

And I am in a position to start a conversation, even though it is uncomfortable and scary for me to do so.

According to NEDA’s website, “30 million Americans will struggle with a full-blown eating disorder and millions more will battle food and body image issues that have untold negative impacts on their lives.”

In other words, you know someone who is struggling—I believe this is especially true if you are a teacher or a coach or a parent of a teenager. What complicates the matter is that eating disorders are not always detectable by outward appearance and many who suffer do not want to be found out.

My own story is typical in many regards.

I was a perfectionist with a need for routine and organization.

My self worth emanated from my accomplishments.

I wanted to be liked by everyone, so I avoided conflict at all cost.

I desperately needed to feel special.

I was the perfect child.

At the onset of my illness, I was an 8th grader who had the world at her fingertips. I was a regular on the A Honor Roll while taking advanced classes; I was a cheerleader, I played basketball, and ran track. I was a first chair clarinet player, chosen as a soloist and selected for symphony orchestra.

I was not overweight. I don’t remember having a negative body image. I have no idea why I chose to go on a diet the summer before I started my freshman year, but I did.

At some point, I began equating being thin to being perfect, so the thinner I could be, the more perfect I would become.

My life quickly spiraled out of control, as I got caught in a cycle of destructive behaviors that consumed every waking hour of every day for years and years and years.

My secret was well hidden (or so I believed at the time) until the beginning of my junior year of high school, when I fainted during gym class. I was fortunate the teacher in whose class I fainted, made it a point to get involved in my life.

She started the conversation.

She made a difference; in all honesty, she more than likely saved my life.

The road to recovery was arduous—I had three long term hospitalizations under my belt by the time I was 19.

The atypical part of my story is the subsequent relapse decades later.

So here’s what I want need you to know:

Early detection and intervention are crucial for recovery. Don’t be afraid to start a conversation. A life could be saved.

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8 thoughts on “NEDA Week 2018: My Thoughts and a Poem”

Hi Karen. It must be hard to return to something that you want to close the chapter on for good, but I’m sure spreading awareness of how it is a negative thing (versus glamorized, thoughtlessly considered not so dangerous, etc.) is helpful. Thank you!

Thank you so much for the kind words. It’s not an easy conversation by any means, but one that must be had. I am grateful for people like you who make it their life’s work to make a difference in the world. Thank you for all that you do!

Welcome!

Hi, I’m Karen and welcome to my blog 2write4health! I began blogging in 2014 as a way to ‘honor my passion for writing’ (or at least that’s what I wrote on my first post). Over the years, I’ve written about whatever is happening in my life (quitting my teaching job and moving from Wisconsin to Georgia), whatever happens to be getting my undies in a bundle (diet culture), sharing my favorite vegan recipes (I’m not a preachy vegan, though…promise), or simply trying to make a difference in this world (#oneword). Thank you for stopping by!

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